The Trial Run
by Bears Eat Beets
Summary: Jim and Pam can't believe their office is a finalist to become the subject of a documentary. The filmmakers come for a trial day of shooting. Will they see anything worthwhile? Just a goofy little tale; hope you enjoy. complete
1. Chapter 1

**8:54 AM - ****Reception**

Jim was leaning against the reception counter, chewing his first jelly bean of the day. He'd purposely chosen a blueberry one.

"Are you surprised Michael isn't here yet?" Pam asked him. In place of an answer Jim only stuck out his now-tinted tongue. She gave him a smile. His heart leapt in that familiar way. "Seriously – today of all days I really thought he'd be here early."

Jim shrugged. "He's shooting for a dramatic entrance." The door to the office swung open and both heads turned, fully expecting to see their boss striding in. Instead four strange men entered, two toting large cases, one a duffel bag, one empty handed. The one free of baggage smiled and approached.

"Hi. We're from the production company," he stated. As he continued in his introductions, Jim couldn't help but be surprised. Oh sure, talk around the office had focused on little else but today, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that of _all_ the offices _all_ over the country, Dunder Mifflin – a struggling paper company in Scranton, Pennsylvania - may actually become the subject of a documentary.

There had been a nationwide search. "Show us what the American workplace _truly_ is," had been the tagline. Jim had no doubt bosses and employees alike had submitted thousands of videos displaying why their office should be the one chosen. Jim had seen Michael's video (set to Loverboy's "Working for the Weekend," which seemed as inappropriate a choice as possible), and could only assume Dunder Mifflin had been chosen as a finalist because no one truly believed Michael Scott was…well, real. Or sane, for that matter. He was certain the production company would come tape them for this trial day, satisfy their warped curiosity, and that would be the last anyone would hear of them. Jim almost envied them, in a way – he wished he could experience this office and its cast of bizarre characters as an outsider too. What would they look like? Moreover, would he – and Pam (the only other person Jim could confidently call normal) – be guilty of weirdo status by association?

Just as the team was starting to unpack Michael swept in. "Good morning, my Dunder Mifflin…-ites!" he chirped, grinning broadly.

"Good morning, Michael!" Dwight immediately responded, standing. It was the only response.

"Dwight. I said good mor-ning," Michael tried again impatiently. Finally there were a few murmured greetings. He pivoted to look at the film crew. "Hello! I am Michael Scott, regional manager of the Dunder Mifflin, Scranton branch," he introduced himself grandly, throwing in a slight bow. The head of the crew held out his hand.

"Randall Johnson, producer of the American Workplace project."

"Pleasure to meet you! Shall we begin?" He started toward the middle of the office. "I love starting the day with a few words of inspiration for the troops – you know, just a little something to get everyone fired up."

Jim forced himself to look away in order to hide his smirk. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pam bring a hand to her face to scratch at a nonexistent itch on her upper lip.

"Well, ah, we actually have to get our equipment ready first, then scope out the best places to set up the cameras-"

"Of course," Michael interjected, unfazed as he quickly retraced his steps. "Do a Martin Scorsese number, catch all the action."

Jim gave Randall credit - there was only a slight pause. "Yes. Right. Then we'll have to get release forms signed and mike everyone. Once all that's done but before we officially start filming I'd like to get everyone together and make sure they understand exactly what we'll be doing today."

"Absolutely," Michael agreed, then clapped his hands. "All right, everyone, you heard Raymond-"

"Randall," Jim and Pam corrected in unison. They exchanged smiles. Jinx moratorium.

"Right. Conference room. Let's do this!"

**9:36 AM - Conference Room**

"So basically what I want to impress upon you all is to just be yourselves. Pretend it's any other day. Try not to look into the cameras, but don't worry if you do. We understand how strange it'll seem, but trust me – by lunch you'll barely notice them anymore," Randall finished with a smile.

"Unless you're Michael Scott," Jim murmured to Pam, who nodded. Randall looked around the room.

"Any questions?"

Before anyone could have replied, Michael hopped off his seat in the front row. Jim knew he had been in sheer agony allowing someone else to run a discussion, especially in his beloved conference room. "Don't worry about this group," he stated, looking over his employees. "Sharpest cookies in America. I'd bet on it."

"I'll see that bet," Stanley muttered. Michael look flustered for a moment then smiled.

"Stanley…he's our Bill Cosby. Constant jokester." Jim _felt_ the impression coming. Pam poked him in the arm with her pen. "Plus he loves the Jell-O pudding!" Michael added in his best Cosby voice.

"Hmph." Stanley's noise of utter distaste covered the soft snort that escaped Pam. Jim heard it and grinned. The noise was in his top five of Favorite Pam Quirks.

Randall merely gave Michael another smile and stepped out to be sure the cameramen were ready. After a moment he returned and nodded. "We're all set," he affirmed.

"All set," Michael repeated, adjusting his tie. "Break a leg, everyone!"

"Really, just act naturally," Randall stressed as the Dunder Mifflin employees stood and began filing out.

"I think that may have been the most informative half hour we've ever spent in the conference room," Jim mused as he followed Pam out.

"No question."


	2. Chapter 2

**10:52 AM - ****Office (Sales Division)**

Jim sighed and glanced around. Thus far this was qualifying handily as the Longest. Day. Ever. Everyone was eerily quiet, too nervous to be caught saying the wrong thing – or anything, really – on camera. The two exceptions were Michael, who every fifteen minutes or so left his office to dispense his own personal brand of wit and wisdom (directly into the camera, no less), and Dwight, whose normally irritating voice was louder than usual while making sales calls. Jim was very proud of the restraint he was showing in not harassing him, but after the eighth mention of Dwight's (fictional) status as assistant regional manager he knew he was about to break.

As his mind wandered his gaze did too, landing (as always) on the reception desk – or, more specifically, who sat behind said desk. Jim wanted desperately to head over to her but he was trying to at least give the illusion that this was a hard working office. On a normal day he would be on his fourth or fifth visit by now. He felt a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched Pam (pretend to?) work diligently. She was wearing a sage green cardigan that he'd complimented her on a few months ago. It set her eyes glowing and brought out the red in her hair. She looked like--

He realized with a start that Pam was looking back at him with a grin. His half smile grew (he was hoping to God he wasn't blushing); he then rolled his eyes and gestured holding a gun to his head. He saw the cameraman positioned near Accounting swivel to catch what was going on. Pam immediately turned back to her computer. Jim did the same, sighing again.

This was truly awful.

Suddenly an instant message window popped up on the screen.

**pambees: **i'm dying up here!! :(

He grinned. He hated emoticons. Usually.

**jhalpert79: **you aren't the only one

**jhalpert79: **my self-control is wearing thin

**pambees: **i'm proud of you thus far

**jhalpert79: **thanks

**jhalpert79:** he's out of control today

**pambees: **i know. i can hear him all the way over here

Jim glanced over at the cameraman again. He had turned completely around, apparently filming some interaction in Accounting. Jim turned to the left and saw another cameraman positioned in the break room doorway.

**jhalpert79: **i feel trapped

**pambees: **YOU?? at least you're not locked into this little corner!

**jhalpert79: **true

**jhalpert79: **all this action'll make for great tv

**pambees: **maybe it'll make a good sleep aid

**pambees: **who do you think would watch this?

**jhalpert79: **a masochist?

**pambees: **lol

He peeked at her, and was happy to see she wasn't "lol"ing gratuitously.

**jhalpert79: **would it be so bad if we just acted normally?

**pambees: **no. i'd just hate for the office to look…you know

**jhalpert79: **to who?

**jhalpert79: **seriously, aside from a few nerds in a studio somewhere no one will see this

**pambees: **you're probably right

**jhalpert79: **usually am

**pambees: **so modest

**jhalpert79: **sooo…you think i should come over?

**pambees: **let's try and hold out a little longer

He was disappointed. Before he could figure out a not-disappointed-sounding response-

**pambees: **but we'll definitely take an earlier lunch…11:30 or so

**pambees: **deal?

**jhalpert79: **deal

**jhalpert79: **if i don't murder dwight first

**pambees: **if you make it to lunch without saying anything to him, i'll give you a prize

He tried not to blush again.

**jhalpert79: **anything good?

**pambees: **a high five

Not what initially crossed his mind, but anytime he got to touch her without having to find an excuse was a winning situation.

**jhalpert79: **all right

**jhalpert79: **but i make no promises

**pambees: **try your best :)

After saving the conversation in "her" file, Jim opened a folder, hoping to make the next half hour pass quickly by actually doing work. Next to him, Dwight started another sales call. Jim focused intensely on the notes in his sales report. This couldn't be that hard, right? He _would_ win. He _would_ win. He _would_-

"Ma'am, that is a promise I make to you as the assistant regional manager-"

"To the." Shit. It was a reflex, or a Tourette's tick. Dwight glared at him. Jim saw another instant message appear.

**pambees: **loser!

**11:33 AM - ****Break Room**

Jim made it to lunch first – Pam had gotten a call just as she was standing to leave. He first went to the kitchen and retrieved the paper bag that held his sandwich and apple, then her yogurt. He headed next to the break room and set their food on the table furthest from the door. He peeled off the lid of her yogurt, then wiped it clean with a napkin (she kept them in her desk; she sometimes used them for art projects when she was bored – he kept a gold star she'd made him as a prize after a particularly good Dwight prank at home on his bulletin board). He grabbed a spoon for her and set it next to her yogurt. She still wasn't there yet so he bought her soda and chips for her. Toby Flenderson smiled his almost-smile as he watched Jim go through his routine.

"What?" he asked, smirking. Toby shook his head.

"Nothing. That's very-"

Pam walked in.

"Nice," Toby finished, turning to leave. Pam said goodbye to him and fell into the seat next to Jim.

"Who was on the phone so long?"

"Michael," she sighed. "He has his office door closed but he's worried he wasn't looking 'important enough' when the camera shot him through the blinds."

"In other words he was pretending to be on a business call to look like he was working?"

"Yup. I suggested trying _actual _work or returning _real _calls but he preferred his method."

Jim laughed and felt himself coming back to life. Even exasperated she was sunshine and he basked in her warmth. Pam looked out the door curiously.

"Where are the cameras?"

"I don't know. Not in here so I don't really care."

"What do you think people with think of everyone when they see this?"

"Hard to say for sure, but no doubt the word insane will be slung around."

"Do you think anyone will believe these people are real?"

"Maybe they'll think they're actors."

"Ooo! Maybe we can get someone a new job – an acting gig in Hollywood," Pam suggested, emphasizing her last word with a healthy dose of jazz hands.

"That's a good idea. Where would we cast everyone?"

"Hmm…well, Dwight could be on 'Lost.' He'd _love _it."

"Are you kidding? He wouldn't even know he was on a television show. It'd be amazing."

"Plus he'd be in Hawaii."

Jim held his hands out. "See? Everyone wins."

"How about Michael?"

"That's harder. Maybe some sort of kid's show host? He does enjoy magic." Pam nodded but didn't look committed. Jim immediately tried to think of a better idea. "Or maybe a game show host? Bob Barker _has _to be near retirement, right?"

"I like that better." He was overjoyed.

"So what about…Meredith?"

"'Intervention'?" Pam suggested, giggling. Jim grinned.

"Beesly! So harsh!"

"I know, I know. On to…let's do Angela."

"Angela…" Jim thought for a moment. "Angela needs her own show."

"I agree. It'd be part cooking show-"

"Part 'Church Lady' sketch-"

Pam was still giggling. "With lots of cats running around."

"Being ridden by babies." Both were laughing now.

"Dressed as cats!" Pam struggled to get out. Jim only laughed harder. To his utter delight Pam buried her face in his upper arm to muffle the sound of her laughter. He could smell her shampoo, or maybe it was her conditioner. It was clean, not some suffocating fruity smell (no doubt something that had "rain" or "mist" in its name). He took a mental snapshot and tucked it away – thankfully, because a second later she lifted her head and the moment was broken. She was wiping her eyes when she quickly ducked her head.

"Oh God," she muttered.

He was instantly concerned. "What?"

"The camera guy. He's way over there, in the corner." And sure enough Jim found him, hidden behind a plant and aiming the camera in their direction. "Do you think he's been there the whole time?"

"I don't know."

"I know they're trying to stay out of the way but they just feel…sneaky to me."

A realization hit him and he felt like an idiot. "And even if they don't see you…" he said, pointing to the tiny microphone clipped to his tie. Pam's eyes widened. She'd forgotten too. Their lunch lost its magic spark after that, but the two still milked every second of the half hour allotted, filling it with small talk. He was still with her; that was really all that mattered. A few minutes after noon Dwight barged in.

"Hey Dwight," Pam greeted amiably.

"Pam," he replied curtly, only shooting a dirty look at Jim (who gave him a wave, smiling). "I'm informing you that as your half hour of lunch has ended," he directed at Jim, "_you _are required to leave the break room. Pam, as you started your lunch three minutes after Jim, you still have three more minutes."

"Okay, thanks for that," Jim said. Dwight looked at him expectantly.

"Let's go. Out."

"Umm…no. But like I said, thanks for the update."

The cameraman had emerged from behind the plant and was now standing just a few feet from the break room door. Dwight smirked. "Jim, are you telling me you're going to disobey a superior?"

"Where is a superior?" Jim wondered, looking around.

"As the assistant regional manager- "

"To the, and that title said correctly means nothing."

"Jim!" Dwight looked from Jim to the camera. "Do you want me to tell Michael?"

"We're leaving," Pam said, standing and gathering her trash. Jim glanced at her and she shrugged. He looked back to Dwight. He was the epitome of smug.

"Thank you. That's what I thought." He shot one last look to the camera and headed for Michael's office. Jim picked up the soda cans and chucked them in the recycling bin.

"Why'd you give in?" he asked Pam. A devious glint sparkled in her eyes.

"Because we're going to get him."

Jim nodded towards the cameras, surprised. "Today?"

"Today." She looked up at Jim. "They want to see what our office _truly _is, right?"

Jim couldn't suppress his grin. "I love you, Beesly," he said, laughing. She smiled. He choked back other words that begged to follow.

"Start thinking of what you want to do. Subtle but good," she murmured as they headed back into the office. Jim only needed a second or two. He knew the perfect prank. It was already set up, it wasn't too disruptive but he knew it would drive Dwight crazy because he would never figure it out. As soon as he reached his desk he pulled up his instant messenger.

"Enjoy your lunch?" Dwight asked, returning to his desk.

"I sure did," Jim answered, giving Dwight a friendly smile. The gesture confused him. Jim sent a quick message to Pam before getting back to work.

**jhalpert79: **today is the day we remove the nickels


	3. Chapter 3

**2:16 PM - ****Office (Sales Division)**

Jim had laid low after lunch. He didn't want to arouse any suspicion from Dwight, plus he and Pam had to plot out exactly how to accomplish their goal. They needed to get Dwight completely out of the office for at least two or three minutes. They decided that whatever excuse they gave Dwight required Pam to go along with him, to be sure he stayed out long enough. Jim didn't know yet what she'd come up with, but he was sure it would good. He checked the clock, saw that it was time, and coughed lightly. From the corner of his eye he saw Pam get up from behind her desk and approach him.

"Hey, Jim?"

He looked up, feigning surprise. "Oh hey, Pam. What's up?"

She shook her head. "I'm really sorry - I forgot to give you this message earlier."

Jim took it and read.

_"--Ask me what's wrong._

_--Offer to help._

_--In advance – no offense!"_

He was a little confused, but knew she had things under control. She was still there, leaning against his desk and looking upset.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Pam sighed.

"I left my cell phone in my car and I really need it. The thing is…"

"What?" He was intrigued.

"Did you happen to see the news last night?"

"No, I missed it."

"Well, they had this story about a woman who got kidnapped from the parking lot of an office not far from here, and…" She bit her lip nervously. She was good. "I know it's stupid, but I'm kind of scared to go out there on my own."

He could see the story had gotten Dwight's attention, not to mention that of the cameraman. Jim started to stand. "I'll go with you to your car," he offered. Dwight let out a short, bark-like laugh.

"Uh, you?" he scoffed. "What would _you _do if you came face to face with a perp?"

Jim shrugged. "I'd figure it out."

"Pam, question: if you want someone to keep you safe, wouldn't you prefer it was someone who actually knew how to protect you?"

"Well…"

"I am trained in the martial arts _and _hold the office of volunteer sheriff's deputy. If there's anyone qualified enough to accompany you, it's clearly me. What does Jim know? Besides, he's so scrawny, it's pathetic."

Jim looked directly at the camera for the first time – for some reason he couldn't help it. It was part 'please say you're getting this,' part 'I'm sorry you have to witness this.' Pam looked from him to Dwight.

"He kind of has a point, Jim," she conceded. "I mean, Dwight _is _pretty intimidating, and all that training…" Dwight smirked. Jim sat back down.

"Fine," he said, acting offended. As Dwight stood and hurried around his desk Pam managed to sneak him the tiniest smile.

"Come on, Pam!" he called from the reception desk. Pam hurried behind her desk to grab her keys. A cameraman followed them out, and as they left Jim heard Pam asking Dwight about the details of his "office." He laughed, then ran around to Dwight's desk. He saw the other cameraman turn and start towards him. He picked up the receiver of Dwight's phone.

"What are you doing?" Phyllis asked softly. Jim held up a finger to her, then gently pulled the receiver apart. Inside were dozens and dozens of nickels. Packed in around them were pulled-apart cotton balls. The cameraman was now on the opposite side of Dwight's desk, so Jim held out the phone to show him. He carefully dumped the change into his hand, then reached over to set it on his desk. He took the cotton balls out and threw them away. He replaced the receiver and went back to his desk, sweeping the change into a baggie he found in his top drawer. The cameraman's brow was furrowed. Jim grinned.

"I've been adding a nickel or two in there every day for the past month and a half," he explained. The cameraman jerked the camera towards the trash where the cotton was. "To keep the coins from jingling around." He raised his eyebrows. Cameraman smiled but still looked perplexed. "Just wait til his phone rings." Jim assured him.

A moment or two later Dwight and Pam returned, Dwight droning on about his purple belt status. "Uh huh, well, thanks Dwight," Pam interrupted at the first pause.

"No need for thanks – it's my duty, Pam," he chastised her as he returned to his desk.

"Find any perps?" Jim asked lightly.

"No, lucky for them. You could have actually gone."

"Well, I'm glad you made it back safely."

"Pfft! As if there was any doubt."

Jim shook his head. "Didn't doubt it for a second," he said. He cleared his throat, a coded message to Pam that he had done the job. Dwight looked up at the cameraman still lurking.

"Why is he over here? What did you do?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing."

"Then why is he watching us so closely?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I don't buy it."

Jim thought on the spot. Heaving a sigh, he muttered, "He was taping me. Looking embarrassed." Dwight raised an eyebrow. Jim gestured in Pam's direction. "About not being good enough to help Pam."

"I'd be embarrassed if I were you, too."

"Thanks. Can we drop it now?" Jim rested his head in his hand, putting on a dejected look. Satisfied, Dwight returned to work. With a quick smile to Pam, Jim did the same.

**2:52 PM - ****Reception**

"How can he not have gotten a single call in over a half hour?" Jim whispered to Pam as he made a show of leafing through a file on her counter. Pam smiled as she kept her eyes on her monitor.

"I blocked his phone line."

"Really?"

Pam shrugged. "I wanted to make sure he was caught completely unaware." She grinned, sneaking a peek his way. He shook his head, smiling. God he loved this girl.

"You, Beesly, are the master."

"Bow to me later. I'll call him in two minutes."

Jim returned to his desk. He pulled up his client list and attempted to look studious. Right on cue, Pam coughed to get Jim's attention. He first caught the eye of the cameraman who had watched him empty the phone and smiled, then jerked his head in Dwight's direction. He drummed his fingers on the table to cue Pam. Jim could barely contain his smile as Dwight's phone rang.

Expecting a receiver that he had been trained over the past six weeks to find much heavier, Dwight jerked the receiver up to his ear. Hard. There was a satisfying thwack as it connected with the side of his face.

"Ow! Dammit!"

"Oh man, Dwight, careful!" Jim admonished, trying to keep his laugh stifled.

Dwight looked stunned. He hefted the receiver in his hand. He examined it, then the cord, but could find no reason for what happened. He glared at Jim. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you do that?"

"Do what? Hit you in the face with the phone? You did that."

"What did you do to my phone?"

"What could I have done to your phone to make you hit yourself with it?" Jim asked.

"You tell me!"

"I can't. I don't even get the question."

"Jim, you'd better tell me or I'm telling Michael!"

Jim shrugged. "Well if you really feel like you need to tell Michael you hit yourself with the phone, don't let me stop you. I don't know why he'd care, but…"

"Michael!"

"Physical abuse of a worker by another worker…well, in this case the same worker? Wouldn't that be an issue for HR?" Jim mused, looking at Pam. She nodded.

"I'd definitely file a report with Toby."

"Ugh, Toby," Michael muttered, emerging from his office. "What's the trouble?"

"Jim did something to my phone," Dwight accused. Michael looked at Jim, who played clueless. "I just hit myself in the face with the receiver," he kept trying to explain.

Michael snorted, then composed himself. "What's Jim got to do with that?"

"My point exactly," Jim said.

"He's trying to make me look like an idiot in front of the cameras," Dwight hissed.

"Too late," Jim muttered, no longer able to hide his smile. Just as Dwight was about to go on another tirade, Randall emerged from the conference room.

"I really hate to interrupt, but would you mind if I had a quick word with everyone?" he asked Michael, who shook his head.

"Not at all. People, hey! Listen up!" he called unnecessarily, as everyone had been watching the action between Jim and Dwight.

"We'd like to start filming what we refer to as talking heads with each of you. A talking head is just you in front of the camera, talking. I'll be asking you questions, so don't feel as if you have to come up with a speech or anything. We'll be calling you one by one into the conference room, so just listen for your name, OK?" There were nods and murmurs of agreement. "Great. Thanks everyone. First up…" He checked his clipboard. "Angela Martin?" The tiny blonde accountant stood and primly made her way across the office and into the conference room.

"This isn't over," Dwight warned as he turned back toward his computer. On impulse Jim flashed another grin at the camera.

"It never is."


	4. Chapter 4

**4:42 PM - ****Reception**

"So…?" Jim prompted Pam moments after she returned from doing her interview. She cocked her head.

"It was okay. Kinda strange."

"What'd they ask you?" He could see the cameraman attempting to shoot them conspicuously from a good distance away, but Jim found Randall was right – it almost seemed normal already.

"The basics – how long I've worked here, what my job entails, that kind of thing. After that it was a bunch of questions about the people that work here." She smiled. "Mostly about Michael and Dwight."

"Not at all surprising."

"When do you go?"

"I'm assuming as soon as Kev finishes because there's no one else left."

"Saved the best for last," she said, her smile widening. Jim felt that rush of heat to his face, but was saved from trying to answer by Kevin exiting the conference room.

"They're ready for you, Jim," he said.

"Thanks, man." Jim glanced at the clock. "Think you'll still be here when I get out?" he asked Pam hopefully.

"Yeah…actually I think I might go to Poor Richard's with you guys tonight."

"Oh really? Cool," he replied, trying not to sound too excited. "I'll see you in awhile then."

"Good luck!"

**4:46 PM - ****Conference Room**

"Okay, Jim, we're ready to start. I'm going to ask you questions from off-camera; all you need to do is answer them. For a talking head we actually want you to look into the camera," Randall explained. Jim nodded.

"That seems easy enough," he replied.

"The only thing we ask is that you answer honestly and in complete sentences. Attempt to restate part of the question in your answer. Make sense?"

"Yes, I understand answering honestly in complete sentences." He grinned. Randall did too. Despite sounding confident Jim felt a little unnerved. He was seated against the wall, between the door and the window that looked out on the office. A huge light was shining on him, and one of the crew held the boom mike right over his head. Randall sat directly to the left of the cameraman, holding a clipboard full of notes. It was like a friendly interrogation.

He spent the next half hour talking. Randall started with the basics Pam had described, and Jim tried to answer as interestingly as possible. He soon learned it was tough to make what he had been doing here the past five years sound remotely interesting. Randall moved on to asking about his coworkers, and he tried to have a joking but light-hearted response about each one, usually sharing jokes he and Pam had. He was even nicer than he probably should have been when describing Michael as a boss, although he was pretty sure "childlike enthusiasm" wasn't a flattering attribute of a regional manager.

"Now you're deskmates, of sorts, with Dwight Shrute," Randall said.

Jim nodded. "Yes, unfortunately."

"How long have you two sat together?"

"Dwight and I have sat together since the day I got here, so five years. Some days it feels like fifty."

"And when did the pranking begin?"

"The pranks? Those started…oh, four years and 364 days ago." Randall laughed. "I tolerated Dwight as much as possible, but I'd say by the end of the second month I had already started finding little ways to mess with him. I'd stop, but it's just so satisfying. The pranks got a lot better once Pam started here. After a few weeks she actually approached me and asked to be in on something." Jim couldn't help smiling as he thought of it.

"She's definitely your partner in crime, huh?"

"Pam? Absolutely. She never fails to surprise me, and she's usually the one with the best ideas. She's amazing." He knew he was blushing.

"How long have you two been together?"

Jim's eyes widened. "What?"

"How long have you and Pam been together?"

"Oh, no, no…uh, Pam and I aren't together," he corrected, getting flustered. "She's actually engaged. To...y'know. Someone else."

"Really?" Randall couldn't hide his surprise.

"Yeah. Her fiance's name is Roy, Roy Anderson. He works in the warehouse here. They met back in high school. They've been together…forever, really." Jim looked away from the camera for just a moment. He couldn't help it.

There was a pause. "Okay…well." Randall looked at his watch, then at Jim. "I think that about covers it."

"Oh, all right." Jim stood. "Should I take my mike off here or…?"

"Sure. Charles already took care of everyone else's while we shot this." Jim unclipped and untangled the tiny microphone, handing it to Randall. After taking it the producer held his hand out. "It was great meeting you, Jim. Great meeting all of you."

"Same here," Jim replied, shaking his hand. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Not at all."

"How is that we, of all places, were actually picked as finalists?"

Randall laughed. "Well, it was one hell of an interesting video submission. We were intrigued, really. Your office seems…a little odd sometimes, but it's obvious you're all good people with a lot of heart. We thought an audience wouldn't have to try very hard to identify with you or your experiences."

"That is kind of a frightening thought," Jim said honestly. Randall laughed again and started gathering his things. Jim grabbed the doorknob, but turned to Randall again. "Can I ask one other thing?"

"Sure."

"Why did you think Pam and I were together?" he asked quietly.

"After watching you two all day? It seemed obvious. Plus she never mentioned a fiancé in her interview." Randall gave Jim a long look. "She did talk a lot about you though. We just figured you two must be a couple."

Jim shook his head slowly. "No. We're, uh…we're friends. Best friends," he tried to say lightly, as if that fact didn't bother him in the least. Randall said nothing for a moment, still watching Jim intently. Finally he smiled.

"I see."

Jim gave him a nod as he opened the door. "Nice meeting you," he said again.

"You too. And who knows? Maybe we'll meet again," Randall said. Jim chuckled as he walked back into the near empty office. Pam was still sitting behind her desk and looked up as he approached.

"How was it?" she asked.

"Pretty painless. I tried to be as nice as possible." He leaned in as casually as he could. "So…are we still on for Poor Richard's?"

"Yep." She hopped up, grabbing her coat. "I was hoping I could get a ride from you."

"Oh, yeah, absolutely. Where's Roy?"

Pam waved her hand. "Something with Darryl. A game, poker night, I don't know." Jim looked down, trying his hardest not to smile. "You ready?" she asked. He nodded and followed her out. "I know it was weird, but I actually had a really good day after all," she said as they waited at the elevator, gracing him with a smile.

"You know what? Me too."


End file.
